For Fear Too Much Warmth
by noveltea
Summary: Crossover with Torchwood For the first time, in a long time, Helen feels like the world has spun on around her and left her caught in one spot. Not left behind, just… standing still.


**For Fear Too Much Warmth**, Sanctuary/Torchwood, Helen Magnus/Jack Harkness, PG-13. _For the first time, in a long time, Helen feels like the world has spun on around her and left her caught in one spot. Not left behind, just… standing still._ Written for azarsuerte at livejournal.

**For Fear Too Much Warmth**

When she found herself standing at the entrance to Torchwood Three, Helen Magnus knew she might be finally starting to unravel. She hadn't been there in years. But she had never forgotten, not a single moment.

It was raining. Fitting, that she found herself in the exact same weather as the first time she'd met Captain Jack Harkness, charming rogue of the Torchwood empire, with an unbreakable desire to protect the Earth from alien invasions. An Earth that wasn't even his own.

She knew how to enter the facility. Even with all of its modifications, she had friends in very high places. Smart people, who knew exactly the kind of details she would like to keep catalogued away. Torchwood didn't exactly see eye-to-eye with her Sanctuary. They never had, but somehow she'd managed to strike a truce with Harkness, leaving all terrestrial Abnormals under her jurisdiction (and completely at her own discretion, since he'd never bothered to take up any form of biology, thank goodness).

She wasn't surprised to find him waiting for her in the tiny little tourist center office that served as the least conspicuous entrance. It was empty of anyone else, just like the grey streets outside. For the first time, in a long time, Helen feels like the world has spun on around her and left her caught in one spot. Not left behind, just… standing still.

"Captain," she greets, as warmly as she can muster, though she's freezing from the rain.

The grin he gives her is trademark Jack Harkness, and never quite meets his eyes. "Dr. Helen Magnus," he replies, motioning for her to move further inside the tiny little room. "You're looking as young as ever."

It's a compliment, and a genuine one. She returns the sentiment. Though their situations were entirely different, she'd found one person, out of the original Five, who defied the very laws of existence. Perhaps even more so than herself. He'd shown her once, what his body was capable of – his regeneration skills, coming back from most-certain death was extraordinary. It taken a while for Helen to earn the right to that knowledge and she had kept her end of the bargain and not revealed it to anyone.

"What brings you to Cardiff?"

She looked up at him, and is lost for words. She doesn't know exactly why she had come to Cardiff. She'd been in London for a conference, and then she'd just… decided to track down Torchwood Three. Perhaps she was curious to see if Jack was indeed still alive. They hadn't kept close contact, and her reports on Torchwood's exploits were second-hand.

Perhaps she hadn't wanted to be alone.

It was uncharacteristic of Harkness to be so understanding and less frivolous with her inability to answer, but she didn't question it. The times had changed him, as much as herself, and if there was anyone who might understand her, it would be him. He led her inside the Hub, which, while still essentially the same place she'd been before had been upgraded to suit the needs of the new team.

"Where is your team?" she asked, noticing that it was devoid of anyone else. At last count he'd had a team of five.

His face looked grim, and she regretted asking the question almost immediately. "Ianto and Gwen are out investigating a spike in Rift energy over the city," he informed her, keeping his voice impersonal. He didn't mention anyone else and she understood that he'd lost people.

Both their chosen occupations, but Torchwood had suffered far more deaths in its name than Sanctuary ever would. And Jack, poor Jack, who could beat death had always watched while death took away the people he cared about.

Helen laid one hand on his forearm. "I'm sorry, Jack," she told him softly, "I don't mean to pry."

His larger hand covered hers. "You're just eternally curious, Helen. You always have been."

This time her smile was wider, more genuine. "I'm sorry we never stayed in touch," she told him. "Maybe that's why I'm here."

"A lot has changed," he reminded her. He'd led her to the conference room on the second level and had motioned for her to sit down. She sat in the seat he offered and he sat down in the chair next to her. There was a glass with the remnants of the aged-whiskey that was stored in the decanter next to it. He poured himself another glass, offering it to her first.

"That's the nature of life," she replied, declining his offer of a drink. "If nothing ever changed, progression would never be achieved and all we do would be for nought. We deal in change, Captain, both Torchwood and Sanctuary. We embrace it and nurture it in the hope that something good will come of it." Her smile slipped. "Not all changes are ones we would hope for." She had had her share of those as well, some she wished she could forget entirely.

He finished his drink in one go and poured another. She'd only seen him like this once before, the second-last time they'd met before their separation. The deaths of his friends and allies hit him hard; it was the only weakness she'd managed to find in the armour of Captain Jack Harkness.

"I wish I could tell you otherwise," she murmured, letting her hand rest on his arm, stopping him from draining the second glass.

He faltered, and then finally set the glass back on the table top. He didn't make any more to remove her arm, and neither did she. She lost track of the time, though it couldn't have been too long, before his long fingers were entwined with hers.

"You're a very rare woman, Helen Magnus," he told her, blue eyes searching her own for something more. She remembered that look, the piercing gaze that could charm even the most cold hearted of individuals. Normally he kept a mischievous smirk in place with the gaze, but they were both aware that she'd seen him at his most vulnerable, and he didn't hide from her. Just like she tried to hide from him.

She felt her cheeks flush, and looked away. He made her feel young, and compared to him she was in her own way.

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her palm, slowly. Deliberately.

She bit her lip. "And you, Jack Harkness, are as incorrigible as ever," she countered looking back at his face.

"All part of my charm." His face was still somber, but Helen knew that he would be alright. He was a survivor, and eventually he would use this to become even stronger.

And maybe she would, too.


End file.
